


Dancing as If We Were Always One

by Snapdragonia



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: M/M, Mirror Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapdragonia/pseuds/Snapdragonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taemin had told him to ask again later, but it was easy to brush off- he was busy, he was halfway across the world, he was dead on his feet. It wasn’t on purpose, but it also wasn’t accidental, that Jongin hadn’t seen Taemin in the dance studio for months. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Jongin witnesses the pyn choreography for the first time and Taemin's dance practice takes a turn for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing as If We Were Always One

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: mirror sex, explicit language, boys being Bad Communicators and taekai being gross 
> 
> title from Taemin's Drip Drop~
> 
> Inspired by the lyrics to Guess Who. the dance to Guess Who. GUESS WHO! also the entire fuckin highlight medley video. also that time Taemin said he wants his audience to just watch the way he moves because it's his goal to make his audience feel things without staring into the camera. 
> 
> thank u to everyone who patiently listened to me yelling at my own ass for a solid month+ re: press it

I changed again

Razor edges of my desire rise

And stop you in your tracks, Wait a minute 

_-Guess Who, Taemin_

-

It wasn’t exactly on purpose, but feeling snubbed is hard to shake. It clings to Jongin’s ribs, stubborn and sore. Taemin had told him to ask again later, that it just wasn’t ready yet, that _he_ wasn’t ready, and somehow that was worse. 

Jongin’s hand twitched around his phone, Taemin’s voice twisting like he knew the honesty would sting even more. _Since when do_ you _need to be ready for me to watch you dance?_

“Taemin I’m in town, wanna see what you're working on for your solo,”

“For the awards show? how was-”

“You’re there now aren’t you? I’m all stiff from the plane, I’m gonna come over.”

“No- wait.“

Taemin had told him to ask again later, but it was easy to brush off- he was busy, he was halfway across the world, he was dead on his feet. It wasn’t on purpose, but it also wasn’t accidental, that Jongin hadn’t seen Taemin in the dance studio for months. 

The longer it went on the harder Jongin’s tongue stuck to his teeth. They hung out when they could, sneaking touches and smiles worth more than words over trophies and barbells and pool cues alike. It wasn’t like they never saw each other. But Jongin wasn't sure how to parse out the way his hurt feelings had burrowed deep in his chest, deep enough that he wasn't sure he could pull out the strands of _I’m lonely, I miss you, I’m sorry,_ from the mess.

Taemin had brought it up just once, in between kisses that tasted like honey butter and the thrill of not getting caught. Taemin had Jongin pressed into the living room couch, his weight divided between where his palms were pinning Jongin’s shoulders and where his hips were grinding down against him. It was late, but Jongin could still hear his members quiet voices and movements behind their politely closed doors. He’d been desperate, hands clawing up Taemin’s arms to tangle in his long hair as Taemin crawled down between his knees to lick and tease and suck. It’d been too long since they could do this- have sex that was more than a cramped hand job behind doors that didn't quite lock.

“Wish you could see, Jonginnie, wish you could-”

“So let me, _fuck, haah,_ just let me.”

“Yes, promise yes,” 

-

The building the company had rented was giant, sprawling and expansive and temptingly quiet beyond the thick crowd. Jongin stepped out of the washroom with a sigh and peered down the long hallway. He couldn’t think of a single person he worked with that wasn’t in this building, the chatter of their laughter and drinking and eating reached him even here, and he turned the opposite way. 

He was warm and sated, just tipsy enough to prompt him into wandering off rather than returning to Sehun’s side to watch him flirt shamelessly with their sunbaenims. When Jongin left he’d been perched on Boa’s lap, too-big and gangly and flushed happily as she cooed indulgently about how handsome he’d grown up. Jongin had no desire to return to see him move onto Heechul, no doubt leaning in with a wobbly pout to whine about missing his Donghae-hyung. 

Instead Jongin took turns randomly, the polished floor transitioning to carpet as he wandered farther from the event rooms. There were enough windows that the orangey night glow of Seoul seeped in, and Jongin let himself pretend he was outside, that it was a hot summer night and he was free to safely wander the streets in anonymity. 

He skirted around some offices, then some cubicles, hands in his pockets. Taemin had been here earlier. He’d glued himself to Jongin’s side the moment he arrived, his had been eyes puffy-tired, his body feeling wrung out as he wobbled against Jongin’s side, clearly exhausted. The reason why was obvious- he was a few weeks out from his solo, but they pointedly didn’t talk about it. The urge to had been thrumming at the base of Jongin’s throat all night. 

Everything felt off between them. Like Maybe dance had been their heart, together. And now it was sitting stale and ignored in their chests- but, no, that wasn’t right because he hasn’t been ignoring it, not even a little. He couldn’t if he tried; the way Taemin moves has been learned into his bones.

Jongin looped back around, striding down the unexplored left-hand side of the office wing. It felt hollow. He hated it. 

A few hours ago, after guiding an exhausted Taemin through his quota of socializing, Jongin had watched Jinki coax him away from the crowd, away from Jongin, and tuck him into a cab. It was one of the few nights they had relatively free. Taemin needed the time. 

The sounds of footsteps approaching had Jongin jolting, his skin prickling with a belated rush of adrenaline as his alcohol-slow body tried to catch up. 

It was Jonghyun, rounding the corner and snapping straight as he spotted Jongin. 

“Get turned around, Jongin-ah?” 

Jongin’s eyes narrowed, catching on the showy grin taking over Jonghyun’s face. 

“No, it’s too loud in there.” 

Jonghyun softened, hands slipping back into his pockets, his smile drooping into something empathetic and small. “Yeah, for me too.” 

Jongin suddenly wanted to hug him, but leaned in instead, brushing his shoulder soft against Jonghyun’s. “This place is big enough you can just- wander. Pretend you’re outside or something, wanna try?” 

The smile Jonghyun shot him then was even more small and empathetic and he nodded, gesturing for Jongin to lead the way. 

Jongin took him for a tour of the office he had already mapped out, before pushing curiously at a door into the stairwell and finding it open, waved him up. They talked about Taemin, mostly. Not that they didn’t have plenty more in common besides Taemin, just nothing they both loved quite so much. 

“Maybe, maybe he’s just being a perfectionist.” Jongin suggested, his voice small and grim. They both know Taemin is _always_ a perfectionist when it comes to dance, and it’d never caused him to close Jongin out before. 

“Mmm, maybe.” Jonghyun hummed, stopping in an airy hallway to look out a bank of windows down onto the city lights. 

Jongin felt his frustration humming up his limbs, thick in his throat. He wanted to fix this, he was sick of not knowing. 

“Maybe he's just under more pressure than we-“ Jongin pauses, glancing at Jonghyun and remembering his own solo career. “than I, can even imagine. It’s like they _won’t stop_ dumping money into his album.” 

Jongin lets out a rough sigh, leaning his weight onto the pane of glass, thinks, _maybe it’s not about you at all._ The thought makes his gut twist. 

Next to him Jonghyun mirrors his position, eyes questioning and gentle before he reaching out to soothe soft fingers over Jongin’s wrist. The touch is new. Jongin peers down at it and is surprised to find it grounding, comforting, and he relaxes into it- takes what is offered. 

“Jongin, maybe you should just ask.”

—

Jongin’s sure he hasn’t felt this nervous sneaking around the dance rooms since before his debut. Maybe since before Taemin’s. There had never been this much tension in his 4am trips to the bathroom, hurrying down dark hallways. 

It was easy to find Taemin, he was in the studio he favored most. The one that still had decade old clouds over the back wall, but new wood flooring, springy and smooth.

It’d taken Jongin a few hours in his own studio, chewing through choreo at quarter speed, to convince himself that Jonghyun was right. That he wants this. He wants to see Taemin move, wants to exorcise that knot under his ribs, wants to force Taemin to make it happen no matter what. 

The door is thick, soundproofed, but Jongin gets close enough to feel, pressing his cheek to the glass and yes, there- it vibrates as Taemin lands a jump, the frosted glass flickering with movement. He can feel the way Taemin sticks it perfectly. 

Jongin’s chest aches abruptly, and he fumbles for the door knob. He’s missed too much already, he needs to see, now. 

He barrels in, eyes wide and hungry and Taemin’s there, dancing, and he doesn’t stop. He’s moving quickly through a routine and it’s achingly abruptly unfamiliar- the way Jongin’s eyes are not met in the mirror for a smile. Instead Taemin’s eyes are dark and low and Jongin wants them on him so badly it has him taking another step forward, hands useless at his sides. 

The track is confusing, cycling between snips of songs and genres but it makes sense, viscerally and completely, when Jongin watches Taemin weave through them, drawing it together with his body. 

It’s so unmistakably, brashly new it has Jongin’s breath caught in his throat. He’d been expecting to meet Taemin’s eyes in the mirror, to latch onto that familiar piercing, dramatic intensity, but it’s so, so different now. Jongin feels something urgent and hungry clawing through his chest because Taemin has taken that raw sexuality that oozes through his style and pared it down, condensed it into something white hot and cutting through every single movement instead and Jongin _missed it_. 

He missed it happening. 

Suddenly the music drops, bass rattling through the room and Jongin watches Taemin drop into a pose, jacket tossed off his shoulders, hands graceful and clawed and it has to right to look _that fucking good._ But Jongin’s transfixed, a small noise bubbling up his throat as blood rushes in his ears. His head feels fuzzy, torn between the kind of awe he hasn’t felt since he first met Taemin ten years ago, and the abrupt arousal flooding hot through him. 

Jongin remembers the way his eyes had locked onto Taemin back then, watching his skinny arms jerk as he popped his chest out in a way that looked bony and impossible. Even then, he’d been too hungry, scuttling up to Taemin, eyes catching on the way the shiny curve of his hair bounced, words tangled up in his mouth, itching to press his palms against Taemin’s sternum to feel the bones. 

“Do that again.”

“What, this?”

“Yeah but, can I feel it, when you- yeah,”

“Here, you try, feel yours too,” 

When Taemin finally meets his eyes, he looks expectant, brows quirked and mouth dropped open with measured breaths. Jongin wants to scramble to him again, slipping over the floor and beg Taemin to show him how he got here. Press his hands to Taemin’s skin and get him to show Jongin the steps so he can soak it up, keep the arc of _Taemin_ and _dance_ inside him complete. He can’t fix this until he knows the steps. 

He wants to pull it out of Taemin’s mouth with his teeth and tongue. Wants to sprawl on the wood floor and watch him dance, because maybe he’d get to see his eyes from there. 

“Hey, you came,” Taemin says it like he’s been waiting. Like he always waits for Jongin. Like maybe he’s been waiting for months.

A whine bursts from Jongin’s throat and he lurches forward into Taemin’s space, sneakers loud and skittering over the floor. 

Jongin’s mouth that is usually so soft is pushing, demanding and heavy on Taemin’s, teeth quick and nipping while his hands split between clawing into the shredded fabric of Taemin’s jeans and fluttering over his sternum, shoulders, heart. 

“Why now?” Taemin pushes the question into Jongin’s mouth with his tongue, unwilling to stop for something like talking. 

“You did it without me- I wanted to see but you didn’t let me, you did it without me,” Jongin’s chest is tight, panting the words into Taemin’s mouth. Saying it out loud, he feels like crying about it for a second. 

Taemin curls his tongue back in, stroking over Jongin’s teeth like it should feel soothing but his lips are so hot, slick around his mouth. Jongin pushes at the swell of Taemin’s thigh, feels the snap of threads breaking as he works his hand through an opening, around to grip the back of Taemin’s thigh hard. 

Taemin shifts. “Do you want to see, now?” He gets his hands around Jongin’s cheeks, tilts his head down further so they are eye to eye. 

Jongin pulls his lips into his mouth, a slow drag against his tongue, feels the way they are swollen and hot already. 

“I already saw-” Jongin’s voice cracks, eyes fixed on Taemin’s, uneasy with the idea that Taemin thinks he didn’t notice. 

“No I mean, do you want to see why I wasn’t ready before, why you couldn’t come sooner.”

Jongin’s brows pull down weirdly, that soreness creeping under his ribs. “Yeah.” 

Taemin’s smile droops slightly at Jongin’s tone but he nods, reaching fingers up to tuck Jongin’s hair back from his flushed face, fingertips gentle over his temples. “Sit here, okay?”

Jongin lets Taemin turn him around, leading him to the middle of the mirrored wall and pressing him down to sit against it. 

“We can also… talk about it, but I wanna show you.”

Jongin folds his knees up to lean on, back rounded against the cool mirror.“Okay, I still wanna see so… Go for it.”

There’s heat in Taemin’s eyes, and Jongin was right, he can see it so clearly from the floor. It’s a small comfort, against the whirlwind of arousal and confusion.

Taemin grabs the stereo remote, jabbing at the buttons a few times before the right track cues up and he gets into position, squarely in front of Jongin, just a few paces away. 

Jongin’s not really sure what to expect, the uneasy feeling of _not knowing_ something involving Taemin and dance returns as he waits, watches Taemin’s bowed head tick with the intros beat. It feels wrong, but then Taemin’s head snaps up, locking eyes with Jongin and if his gaze was hot before, Jongin’s not sure how to describe it now. 

It falls on him like a visceral weight, heavy and scorching, cutting straight down his spine and lighting up his blood. It feels impossible that Taemin could create _this_ in the months they’ve been apart. It feels impossible that Jongin had forgotten how _fucking hot_ Taemin is when he dances, when he moves his body with such focus and intent, and this is like a whole other level. 

Jongin can feel his cheeks heating and he wants to watch Taemin’s body move but his eyes keep snapping back to Taemin’s eyes, wanting to make sure that scrap of familiarity was still there, make sure it was still focused tight on _him._

It is, Taemin’s moving through the routine smoothly, dragging the heat of his dance through each turn of the song and doing it all with Jongin at the very vortex of the fire whirl he is whipping around them. Being here again, seeing Taemin dance after so long, it’s overwhelming- he’s hard in his worn jeans, can feel the hot line of his dick pressing on his thigh with how his knees are drawn up tight. 

“You watching?” 

Jongin nods quickly, shifting his hips at the breathy hitch in Taemin’s voice. There’s a few beats of silence, and he sees sweat slipping over Taemin’s temples, sticking his bangs to his forehead. 

“You see?”

Jongin’s halfway to another nod but then the beat changes again and Taemin breaks eye contact, brow furrowing in concentration as he drops into a floor routine. The loss has Jongin sucking in a breath, eyes scrambling to find purchase again, catching on the long lines of Taemin’s legs, the shift of his shoulder, the razor precise angles of his hands. 

And- Taemin’s hard in his pants too. Jongin feels the air whoosh right back out of his lungs, his head swimming with the pulse of arousal that floods suddenly through him. 

Taemin’s elbow is quivering with the effort of holding himself up, his other hand cupped over his hard dick and it _can’t_ be the choreography, except he’s still on beat and he's rocking up into the touch. It’s heavy and lingering, brushing up his thigh, cant be anything other than intentional. 

Jongin’s ears are ringing, the music pouring through the room reduced to a faint buzz and yeah, okay, he gets it. There’s no fucking way Taemin could have done this with him in the room. No way he could have met Jongin’s eyes in the mirror and gotten anywhere with this choreography. 

It must show on his face because when Taemin snaps back up to his feet with a move that looks directly in opposition to gravity, he’s laughing. Taemin’s cheeks are pinched up bright, chest heaving and Jongin can see wet smears of precome dotted around the bulge in his jeans. 

All these months… every time Jongin had bit his tongue, wanting to ask but too prideful and hurt. It feels abruptly stupid and embarrassing, and he unfolds himself to scramble to his feet, pouting at Taemin’s laughing mouth. 

“You could’ve just told me, asshole.”

Taemin giggles, catching Jongin’s elbow and turning him around to face the mirror instead, spooning up behind him. 

“And say what? ‘Sorry Jongin you can’t come watch my new stuff, it’s too hot, I can’t control my dick.’” 

Taemin feels scorching on his back after the mirror.

“I don't like not knowing things about your dance. That’s… important.” Jongin huffs out, hunching his shoulders in to try and see Taemin’s face behind him in the mirror. He feels antsy, wants to be done with this already so they can kiss, touch, fuck. “Just- hurry up and apologize.”

Jongin can feel Taemin’s breath catch behind him, then clammy fingers pulling his jaw to the side to look back at Taemin. 

“Jonginnie…” He looks so sincere, brows pinched like he hadn’t realized it would hit him precisely that hard. “I didn’t think about that part and I thought- well, I’m sorry.”

Jongin’s stomach clenches, his mouth pulling into a crooked smile. “M’sorry too, now can we..? _please.”_

Taemin chuckles, pushes up even closer to his back, breath hot across Jongin’s lips. He can feel Taemin’s dick nudging up against his thigh and arches back into it sharp and purposeful. 

“Jesus- yeah, yeah okay,” Taemin twists him around fast, fingers clawing into his hips, and slams their mouths together. 

Jongin feels like he could float up to the ceiling, grinning into Taemin’s bruising kisses and latching his arms around Taemin’s neck. He’s giddy, can’t wait to peel away their clothes and let Taemin white out his head, let his familiar touch smooth out the sharp edges of lingering doubt.

Anticipation has Jongin shivering hard, his hands pushing down the collar of Taemin’s shirt to paw at his sweaty shoulder blades, press his pelvis forward to grind them together.   
  
Taemin gasps, his hands coming alive and shoving into Jongin’s pants. Jongin’s knees jerk, threatening to buckle, as Taemin wraps a hand around his dick, the other reaching back to knead at his ass. “Taem, fuck-“

“What d’you want?” Taemin asks, hands squeezing and pawing rough and graceless. “Want me to show you?” 

It catches Jongin’s breath up, his hips twitching and jerking, trying to make sense of the touches, wanting to push into them and find a rhythm. “Yeah, want you,” 

Taemin’s smile is sharp, even with his familiar round cheeks and soft lips and Jongin feels his stomach swoop. There’s an edge of newness to it, like the sharpness of Taemin’s dance is cutting over into this too. The image of Taemin’s legs spread wide, hips rocking up into his hand flashes hot through Jongin’s mind, has him choking on a moan.

He feels overstimulated already, Taemin’s fingers finally settling into a pattern on his skin and Jongin muffles a whine, high and needy, against Taemin’s mouth, hooking his fingers into Taemin’s shoulders and pulling him in as he stumbles back to lean against the mirror. 

“Fuck- Jongin..” Taemin yanks his hand away from where Jongin is grinding it between his ass and the mirror with a wince. 

Jongin slouches forward, slotting their thighs together, blinking up at Taemin slow and demanding. Taemin just huffs out a laugh, his other hand wriggling down to squeeze around Jongin’s balls.“You bring lube?” 

_Duh I brought lube, inside pocket, on the right._ The words are easy through Jongin’s head but his brain feels like goo, the whole of him a raw needy pulse that makes actually speaking the words feel impossible. 

He locks wide eyes with Taemin, biting into his bottom lip and pulling Taemin forward in a hard grind instead, that’s easier. It has him groaning loudly at the feeling of Taemin’s dick hot against his hip, the way he can wrap his hands around both curves of his pelvis easily to rock against him again. 

“Fuck- okay I know, I know, c’mon Jonginnie,” Taemin pants, pulling his hand out of Jongin’s pants to pat down his pockets. 

Taemin leans back to run searching fingers over Jongin’s thighs and Jongin lets out a pleased little whine, hands slipping up to palm over the arch of Taemin’s lower back, feel the columns of muscle there. 

“You could help, you know,” Taemin huffs, eyes soft as he moves up to check the pockets of Jongin’s jacket. Jongin lolls his head over, rolling it against the mirror with a lazy smile. They both know he can’t, not really, he’s too far gone. 

It’d been alarming at first, how easily Taemin pulled him under, how quickly his body gave up anything, everything, that wasn’t the molten, fucked out search for pleasure. But Jongin was terrible with words when he wasn’t desperate, so it’s not like it was shocking, once they settled into it. Once Taemin stopped searching for a response than Jongin couldn’t give and learned to read the ones he could. 

Jongin’s hands are creeping slowly up Taemin’s shirt, brushing over the soft curve of muscle, jumpy under his touch, when Taemin breaks away with a triumphant yelp. “Got it! Now- less clothing.”

It happens so fast, one second he’s rocking his dick lazily against Taemin, searching out a nipple, and the next his jacket is being yanked open and off his shoulders, bunched around his elbows and trapping his arms against the mirror. He’s bare underneath, having abandoned his sweaty shirt before coming to find Taemin and Jongin shivers at the cool studio air against his chest, the mirror against his back. Taemin’s hands are small, quick, the opposite of his own as he shoves Jongin’s pants down before working on his own. 

Jongin whines, brows pulling together as he shimmies his shoulders, trying to get his arms free of the jacket but his limbs feel like rubber, slow and uncoordinated, slow enough that Taemin catches him easily. “Ahh, do you mind?”

Taemin’s hand is hot around his bicep, stilling him. He’s stripped bare except for the black wisp of a shirt, clingy-loose and sheer down his arms and torso. Jongin can see his dick hanging heavy beyond the soft hem and swallows thickly. _Yeah, no, that’s fine, you can-_

Jongin nods his head, stilling his arms and clasping his wrists behind him, arched away from the mirror. _Yeah, the jacket can stay._

Taemin’s smile is blinding as usual, but sharpened, cutting in a way that has the low buzz of anticipation in Jongin’s stomach spiking. Jongin’s tongue peeks out to soothe over his lips as he focuses on toeing out of his sneakers and pants instead. 

“Thanks, that’s- perfect, you’re perfect,” Taemin murmurs, stepping back into Jongin’s space to ghost fingertips down the pretty arch of his chest, presented out. It has goose bumps rushing over his tummy with a shiver. 

The skin around Jongin’s nipples tingles as they pucker up with Taemin’s touches, sharp and throbbing. 

“You’re so fuckin- _pretty,_ Jonginnie.” Taemin’s voice is kind of rough around the edges, his fingers gentle and reverent and Jongin feels his spine melt even further, twisting and pushing into Taemin’s hands. “You wanna see? Here-“ 

It’s so easy for Taemin to haul him around, just a few well placed tugs and he’s facing the mirror again. It makes him feel small in a way that is satisfied and lush and Jongin sinks into the feeling happily, leaning his weight onto Taemin. One of Taemin’s arms is looped behind his elbows, keeping his chest pushed out, the other creeping over his hip. “Look at you…” 

He is, there’s nothing else to see, the broadness of his chest hiding Taemin’s reflection almost entirely. Jongin fixes his gaze around his belly button, taking in the stretch of his tummy and the soft curve of his hips. He knows he looks wrecked, fucked out already even though Taemin has barely touched him- it has an embarrassed flush creeping red down his neck. 

“Oh come on, _look_ , I want to show you.” Taemin says, hooking his chin over Jongin’s shoulder tonip at his ear. 

Jongin squirms, trying to grind his ass back against Taemin’s dick, get him to hurry up, to fuck him so he’ll have a good reason for being this fucked out already. 

Taemin’s fingers tease up the length of his dick, fingertips swirling precome over the hard ridge of his head, so lightly it has Jongin’s thighs shaking, jumping, wanting to fuck into his hand. 

“Look how wet you are, you’re dripping,” Taemin breathes the words over Jongin’s neck and his legs just won’t stop shaking. 

Jongin’s eyes snap up to Taemin’s, meeting his gaze in the mirror. There’s a pretty flush over his cheeks, eyes dark and shining in the studio light and looking nowhere near as wrecked as Jongin feels- letting out a whine as Taemin strokes him properly a few times. 

That, that’s impossible to ignore, Jongin’s eyes tracking down to watch the slide of Taemin’s fist over his dick, seeing and feeling the tight circle of his fist, the brutal way he twists around Jongin’s head. It’s electrifying, has him gasping and squirming harder, his eyes wide and fixed in awe. It feels like every touch is doubled, seeing it play out in front of him likes this while it’s happening. 

“T-taem, please, please please,” The words tumble out high and choked, surprising them both, two sets of eyes tracking up to Jongin’s face in the mirror. Jongin watches himself as he licks around his lips, red and swollen and glazed and now that he’s looked at himself he doesn’t think he can stop, his eyes dragging up to meet his own gaze, dark and desperate. He lets out a groan, his eyes slitting low but not closed, no, because he wants to keep this pleasure looping in front of him. Feeling and watching over and over. 

“There,” Jongin can feel Taemin shifting behind him, “That’s it, you haven’t watched us move together in so long, I want you to see this Jonginnie,” 

Jongin feels Taemin’s touch leave and come back cold and slick behind his balls, but his eyes are glued to himself, watching the scrunch of his nose at the first wet swipe over his asshole. His mouth is dropped open, panting and he nods in agreement. He wants to see this too. 

Taemin’s fingers are small and sure, circling his rim with easy pressure, and Jongin can feel his ass fluttering open already, wanting to coax Taemin’s fingers inside. He takes a moment to imagine what that must look like, the slick pucker of his ass winking around the tips of Taemin’s fingers and it has him shuddering hard, rocking back clumsy and eager. 

“Easy, give me a minute here,” Taemin laughs a little breathlessly, retracting his fingers to smooth over the soft hairs between Jongin’s cheeks, his other hand clamping tight over Jongin’s hip. 

Jongin watches his own throat as he whines, his adams apple bobbing low and presses back again, needy and insistent. 

He’s not looking, so the sharp smack against his hip catches him entirely off guard, eyes shocked and wide as he finally drags his gaze away to meet Taemin’s. His mouth is as soft as ever, but his eyes are hard, pinning Jongin. “You already waited so long for this.”

Taemin’s voice, soft and low, is confusing with the pulse of pain still rocking through him, but the words trickle through eventually. Jongin’s brow scrunches down, he had waited, so long, too long, he'd been stubborn and prideful and stupid and made Taemin wait too.

Jongin lets out a deep breath, nodding his understanding and letting his body relax back into Taemin’s hold, showing him. Taemin’s so small and strong behind him, making it easy to melt onto his chest and let Taemin hold him up. 

“Come on, move forward a bit,” Taemin says, nudging Jongin a few steps forward. The lube Taemin had smeared around his ass is slippery and warm as he moves, not entirely unpleasant, but a reminder of how exposed he is, that he definitely hadn’t locked the door on his way into the studio. 

Then Taemin is hooking his foot in front of Jongin’s ankles just a second before a hand clamps into the jacket still trapping his arms and shoves him forward. Jongin yelps, shoulders jerking even as he knows he can’t reach out to brace himself against the mirror, Taemin’s foot stoping him from stumbling forward.

The muscles up his hips and belly and chest clench hard to keep his balance like this, tipped at the waist towards the mirror, his cheek just a few centimeters away from its surface. He’s caught, panting and electrified and so, so willing. 

“Is that better Jonginnie? Now you can see both of us.” Taemin looks pleased, and he’s right, Jongin can see the whole of them this way. He stutters out an affirmative, but can already feel the fine tremors of strain rattling up his thighs from the position. 

“You can lean on the mirror you know.” 

Taemin’s eyes are curved up in a smile and Jongin leans forward, pressing his cheek against the cool glass just in time for Taemin’s fingers to return to his ass, slipping through the warm lubey mess. “That’s good. Tell me if you need your hands free.” 

“O-okay.” Jongin squeaks, then. “Taem… the door, I didn’t lock it.” 

Taemin’s face splits into a grin, cheeks pinched up and teeth shining sharp. “We better be quick then!”

Jongin chokes on his fervent agreement, words lost as Taemin notches two fingers against him, sinking into the fluttery rim and then pushing, stretching him open. “Okay, okay, yes,” Jongin pants out, breath hot and fogging up the glass in short bursts. Taemin is rocking and twisting into him, smooth and familiar and still so overwhelmingly fast. 

Jongin shifts, looking into the mirror and it’s reflection sets his bones to shaking even more. He’s flushed down his chest, red under the soft brush of hairs down his chest and belly, his dick is hard arched against the curve of his torso and he’s trembling, so hard he can see it. 

Taemin’s fingers spread inside him, stretching him wide and Jongin feels his muscles clamp against the burn, then Taemin slipping another finger in as soon as Jongin’s muscles unclench. 

“You good, Jonginnie?” 

Jongin grunts out a breath, wiggling his hips back, wanting to get past the lingering throb of discomfort already. 

“Okay okay,” Taemin murmurs, cocking his wrist and probing down for Jongin’s prostate. 

He tenses in anticipation, knees trembling before Taemin even reaches it, keening low in his throat. Taemin has practice at this, and once he finds the right angle, he rocks his fingers against Jongin’s prostate hard, his knuckles catching and dragging against the rim. Jongin shakes apart, his cheek stuttering sticky and harsh down the mirror as he looses balance, looses everything in the sudden overwhelming wash of pleasure. 

Every breath is pushed out with a whine and he can hear Taemin letting out a pleased groan behind him, pulling his fingers out and pushing them back in smoothly- a test. Jongin does his best to relax, to show Taemin he’s ready. 

“Taem… ready.”

“Yeah, you are.” 

Taemin steps back, pulling out his fingers to brush appreciatively over the soft curve of Jongin’s backside, tensed and trembling. “Lets get your arms out.” 

The sudden emptiness is cold and wrong, but Jongin makes a happy lilting whine at the thought of having his hands free, being able to touch Taemin so he wiggles his arms to try and shimmy out of their trap without having to haul himself upright. Taemin reaches in, flicking Jongin’s cuff buttons open and tugging one arm then the other down and off. 

The second Jongin is free, bare, he scrambles forward to lean against the mirror. It feels good on his overheated skin and his shoulders ache pleasantly when he rolls them, stretching them out. Taemin doesn't make him wait, only a few breaths, before he’s crowding Jongin up against the mirror. The sensation has him gasping, so much of his skin taken up in one long cool press, while the rest of it is blanketed by the warmth of Taemin’s skin behind him. 

Jongin doesn’t make Taemin wait either, immediately pressing his palms to the glass and hitching his hips back to grind against Taemin’s dick, feel the cool smears of precome between his legs as Taemin’s hips jerk.

“Wanted this, right from the start, right from when I saw the choreo.” Taemin rasps, pushing his hands up Jongin’s back in rough sweeps, petting over his ribs and waist. “It just _feels like us_ , like when we fuck.” 

Jongin feels his knees wobble with the bolt of heat that shoots straight to his dick. He wants to know what it feels like, he wants Taemin to show him, teach him. “I know, saw it but I wanna feel, too- later,” 

Behind him are the sounds of Taemin fumbling for their lube, then the squelch of his fist tight over his dick, a stuttered breath. 

“I’m gonna show you now, Jongin-ah.” 

Jongin stills, his breath catching as Taemin presses against him, hands messy and eager where they pull his hips back. It feels like a miracle that they fit together so well like this, but Jongin doesn't have time to appreciate it because Taemin’s dick is slipping over his opening, teasing and slipping between his cheeks, pausing to prod at his rim. 

Taemin stills, pushes out a breath slow and steady and then he’s pushing in the same way, sinking into to Jongin in one long, hard press. The force of it has Jongin shaking against the mirror, feeling pinned and blown open and paralyzed all at once, like the mirror and Taemin are both immovable objects he is caught between. 

Jongin’s panting onto the mirror, fogging it up properly and he squirms on Taemin’s dick, pushing his ass flush with Taemin’s hips and wiggling. That’s enough encouragement for Taemin to jerk his hips forward, fucking into him nice and deep, grinding into his prostate. 

“You watching?”

Jongin just moans, nodding as his shoulders curl into the mirror and he reaches down to get a hand around his dick. He can see, if he angles his head and looks to the side. He can see the way Taemin’s hips flex as he pushes in and out, the pretty arch of his own back and the flush spreading bright over both of them. 

“You ready?”

Jongin can’t reply before his hand, squeezing over the throbby length of his dick, is pulled off, replaced by Taemin’s. It’s lube wet, a purposeful cup and glide up to the tip and Jongin melts into the feel of Taemin’s familiar, tight grip. 

Behind him Taemin shifts and suddenly everything snaps into place, Jongin’s eyes going wide, scrambling to look, to see because Taemin is rocking hips hips forward, fucking into him in a way that is so familiar, a slow circular grind, deep and dirty. Jongin feels his knees start to give out because it _looks_ familiar too, now that he’s seen Taemin’s new dance- the only difference is it’s Jongin’s dick under his hand. 

“Oh god, ohh Taem, fuck it’s,” His words are mush in his mouth, too desperate and awed. 

“Yeah, yeah, just like us.” Taemin grunts, brows pulled together, his mouth soft and dropped open for breath. 

Jongin croons out in agreement, feeling something proud and claiming and _right,_ sweep through him. This is theirs, even if he missed it happening at first. His sweaty hands slip down he mirror, thighs trembling apart and it’s a good thing this was meant to be quick because he’s too worked up to try and prolong it. 

Taemin’s hand is clamping almost painfully tight on Jongin’s dick as he speeds up his rhythm. Jongin feels dizzy with it, pinned open and helpless as Taemin presses into him again and again, one long overwhelming grind. 

When he comes it pushes up from his toes, the waves of heat pouring through him slow and hard enough to have him shaking, leaning into the mirror to stay upright. Taemin guides him through it, his hand stroking over him tight and steady, squeezing out each pulse of pleasure. 

Jongin slumps against the mirror, his muscles loose and twitching with the aftershocks of orgasm, whining happily as Taemin stills his hand, moving it over to hook his messy fingers deep into Jongin’s thigh instead. He pulls hard, using the leverage to hitch Jongin’s lax hips back again and again, rocking him back onto his dick. It’s overwhelming and too much, how he can feel Taemin’s dick going impossibly hard inside him, the way Taemin suddenly pounds in as deep as he can while yanking him back, pinning them together so tightly Jongin can feel the faint throbbing kick inside him as Taemin comes too. 

Jongin just barely has time to brace himself before Taemin’s weight is lurching into him, Taemin giving a displeased little grunt as he lazily wobbles to the side, pulling his hands back to pet at Jongin’s thighs and sighing deeply. 

“You good for a sec?” Taemin slurs out, leaning forward to rest his cheek on Jongin’s spine. 

Inside him Jongin can feel Taemin’s dick retracting, the whole of him feeling juicy and messy and he figures he’s a lost cause, but the floor could still be saved. “M’tired, get me a towel.” 

“Thanks, thanks, love you.” 

Jongin smiles against the mirror, shifting his stance as Taemin melts against him, sounding truly exhausted. His mind is a pleasantly sleepy slow, body sore and protesting but easy to ignore in favor of soaking up the sweetness of this moment, at least for a few moments longer. 

Taemin’s dick slipping out has them both groaning though, Jongin tensing as his ass flutters and clenches on nothing, semen sliding hot and gooey down his thigh motivating him into prodding Taemin. 

“Taemin, towel.” 

“M’kay, gotcha, on it,” 

Turning around to lean his shoulders and back against the mirror feels amazing and Jongin’s eyes slip closed. He can feel Taemin’s footsteps returning and slits an eye open to peer at him, his mouth curling up into a gleeful little grin, taking in Taemin’s appearance properly- He looks wrecked, finally properly fucked out to match Jongin. 

“Thanks for showing me.” Jongin croaks, clearing his throat and taking the familiar white terrycloth from Taemin to wipe up what mess he could. 

“I wanted to a long time ago but… maybe it was better like this.” Taemin says lowly, a slow sleazy grin forming on his face as he pulls on clean sweats and crumples to the floor with a satisfied sigh. 

Jongin huffs in annoyance but he cant help sharing in the easy satisfied pride of a good fuck, of resolution. “Yeah, you still could have just told me though. Asshole.” 

Taemin just giggles, reaching up to hand Jongin his pants and then pull him down onto the floor, wiggling around to get his head in Jongin’s lap. Jongin leans back with a groan, lying flat on the ground and grimacing at the soreness in his back. He’s not too worried about anyone walking in on them like this, it’s not so far outside their normal post-practice rituals. Excluding the mirror. 

“Gonna have to clean that mirror.” Jongin mumbles, rubbing a hand down his face.  


Taemin shifts on his thigh, rolling to look up at the mirror and letting out a high bark of laughter at the oily streaky mess of sweat and semen and lube smeared across it. 

Jongin reaches down to thread a hand through Taemin’s hair, letting the thickness of it slide though his fingers. If it were anyone else he’d have to check, he’d need to watch their eyes as they said, undoubtedly, _yes- it’s resolved, we’re good,_ in order for the tight clamp of anxiety to loosen under his ribs. 

Here though, with a not insignificant part of Jongin’s brain already working on fitting together the moves of Taemin’s new choreography, with his ass an achey messy reminder, this is all he needs. Maybe it was better to do it like this after all. 

“You gonna get back to practicing?” 

Taemin rolls over to smile up at him, hair sweaty and tufted up. 

“I never stopped.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! Come find me on tumblr at [ kpoophell ](http://kpoophell.tumblr.com)if you want~
> 
> I started writing this while I was waiting up for Taemin's showcase and then got so overwhelmed I couldn't finish it /wiPES BROW


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